
By 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

®]^a}i — inp^rigl^t !f 0. 

ShelfA.^.?..^. ll 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



LAYS OF A Lawyer 



WILLIAM BARD MCVICKAR 




/ o 



New York 

GEO. M. ALLEN & CO. 

94 Fifth Avenue 



\^\ 






Copyrighted 1891 
By Geo. M. Allen & Co. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT IS MADE TO EDITORS OF 
"LIFE" AND OF "PUCK" 



Some one more versed in books than I 
Has somethiitg fnore than hinted 

I ought to give a reason why 
This little book is printed ; 

And that 'tis hard to do — // hath 

No bearing on the season; 
It was 7iot writ for love, or wrath, 

Or other obvious reason; 

It hath no lesson to impart ; 

It solves no social question ; 
lis pathos may not reach the heart. 

Its laughter help digestion ; 

Yet if one verse within it finds 

A synipathetic dimple ; 
Or if it prove to laymeyVs minds. 

That lawyers can be simple. 

Why then Td hold its work well done 
Though further praise be stinted. 

For after all 'tis half for fun 
This little book is printed. 



CONTENTS 



Oyez, Oyez, Oyez, ....... i 

People vs. Phyllis, ...... 3 

To Phyllis, 5 

Tempora Mutantur, ...... 7 

To Janet, ........ 9 

Ballade, ........ 10 

To Phyllis, ........ 12 

To Chloe, ....... 13 

Her Heart, ........ 15 

LexTalionis, ....... 17 

In Answer to a Request for Nine Valentines, 18 

If I were Rich, ....... 19 

On Edith Masquerading as Diana, . . . .21 

April Fool, ....... 23 

Her Parasol, ........ 24 

Autumnal, ....... 25 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

A Cup of Tea, ....... 26 

To a Five Dollar Bill, 28 

To Miss Pumpernickel, . . . . . .29 

Cheeky, ........ 30 

To Daphne, ........ 31 

Love, with Marginal Notes, .... 32 

Autumn Days, ....... 34 

Under the Mistletoe, ...... 35 

Entre Nous, ........ 36 

Yesterday, To-day and To-morrow, ... 41 

Valentines, ........ 43 

To my Mother on her Birthday, 1883, ... 45 

To my Mother on her Birthday, 1885, . . . .48 

Two Pictures, ....... 49 

A Plea for Two Lawless Trespassers, . . -51 

The Duel, 52 

ToPrue, ........ 54 

Arcadie, ........ 55 

Miss Aurora Borealis, . . . . . -57 

Osculatory, ....... 58 

Diablerie, ........ 59 

By Request, ....... 60 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 
Psalms, Ixxxv : lo, . . . . . .62 

A Reminiscence, ...... 63 

Man's Love, ........ 64 

Quid Pro Quo, ....... 65 

Romance, ........ 66 

To Amaryllis at Newport, ..... 67 

Joan, ......... 68 

Celia's Portrait, ...... 69 

Epitaph of a Cur, ....... 70 

To Celia Requesting a Poem before Breakfast, . 71 

A Mile. Phyllis, ....... 72 

Bon Voyage, ....... 73 

A Dedication, ....... 74 



OYEZ! OYEZ! OYEZ ! 

Oh, hear ye, hear ye, hear 3^e, all 

Ye that have business referred 
To this Honorable Court from hovel or hall 

Draw near and ye shall be heard ; 

Ye damsels for Thomas the groom who sigh, 

Ye lovers of Lady de Vere, 
Ye dandies enchained by a dairy maid's eye, 

Ye sweethearts and swains draw near ; 

For this is the Court of his Majesty Love, 
From which there lies no appeal. 

Where weighty decrees are given above 
A heart by way of a seal ; 

Where fines are paid in kisses and sighs, 
Where fetters are woven of hair. 

Where oaths are always supposed to be lies, 
Vv here everything wrong is fair ; 



OYEZ! OYEZ! OYEZ! 



So then to the bar of this Honorable Court 
Let every one, sinner or saint, 

Whatever her sex or his station resort 
Alleging their cause of complaint. 



^to ©XJttvt 0f %oioc. 



PEOPLE ex rel. STREPHON, 

Plffs. and Respts. 
VS. 

PHYLLIS, 

Deft, and Applt. 



BRIEF FOR RESPONDENTS. 



STATEMENT. 

That in the month of May 
On or about some day 
Appellant took relator's heart, and stole 
it quite away. 

POINT I. 

The case is more than clear ; 
I?ite?it doth well appear ; 

" Felonious taking," please the Court, is quite 
established here. 



PEOPLE vs. PHYLLIS 



POINT II. 

The heart was not returned ; 
Appellant claims 'twas spumed, 
The evidence, however, shows, with passion 
it was bur7ied! 

POINT III. 

The larcency is grand. 
And, as the cases stand. 
Appellant, to relator clearly forfeiting 
her hand. 

Should be confined for life 
In bonds of " wedded strife," 
And be proclaimed to all the world as the 
relator's wife. 

Dan Cupid, 

of Counsel. 



TO PHYLLIS 

On returning her copy of Story^s '''■He and She.^^ 

What e'er it be the book you lent, 

Whose idle pSiges you have turned, 
Whose thoughts their little store have spent 

Upon you as you read and learned, 
Or missed the lessons it would teach. 

Whose binding felt your magic touch, — 
For pages, thoughts, and binding each 

I cannot ever say too much, 

A quaint idea that " he and she " 

Together in a sylvan glade 
Should chatter apt philosophy, 

The poet voicing to the maid 
The thoughts which tumble through his brain 

On love, on life, on death and rhymes : — 
Ah, thoughts, you are so very vain ! 

And yet you come to all at times. — 



TO PHYLLIS 



A pretty thought that " he and she " 

Should thus the old conclusions try 
With nature, men and destiny, — 

But think you not that you and I 
Would sound as well ? And, ah, how sweet 

To lead you to some mossy spot, 
And lay me humbly at your feet 

While we discuss — I care not what ! 

And while decision, nicely poised. 

To this side, then to that inclines. 
Or each decree abroad is noised 

By cawing rooks among the pines. 
So long as I might linger there 

Afar from life's more beaten tracks 
With you alone, for all I'd care, 

The world might go to — Halifax ! 



TEMPORA MUTANTUR 

When you were five and I was seven 

We loved each other dearly ; 
We kissed, it was a childish heaven 

To play at lovers merely ; 
Full fifteen years and more had sped, — 

How swift the twelve months canter !- 
No longer we at lovers played; 

Ah, " tempora 7iiuta7itur "/ 

For you were fairer than the flowers, 

That loved to grow around )^ou, 
A thing to gaze upon for hours, 

To dream about I found you, 
But when I begged for childhood's kiss 

You laughed in merry banter, 
As though it were conculsive, this : 

" Sir ' tempora miitantnr'! " 



TEMPORA MUTANTUR 



The times are changed, yes, Phyllis, very 

My hair and beard are grizzled ; 
'Tis hard to wait for Charon's ferry, 

And think how life has " fizzled " ; 
The times do change, and so do we, 

But I still love you, Phyllis, 
And times may change for you and me, 

If love don't change "/« ////x." 



TO JANET 

Written on the Fly leaf of de Mussefs 
" Comedies et Proverbes^ 

No gift of old of ring, or book, 

But had a posy scrawled upon it, 
But years ago the world forsook 
This pretty mode, and modems brook 
Nor chansonette, nor sonnet ; 

Yet one whose eyes have met your eyes 

Must hymn for very sadness 
Those pools in which his reason lies, 
For it mistook them for the skies. 

And now lies drowned in gladness : 

And if you find within these books 

But tales of love's entreating, 
Ah, blame not me, but blame your looks, 
Which sent my reason off the hooks. 
And set my heart a-beating. 



BALLADE 

I've often mused about your face, 
Since recollection naught implies, 

For old Time changes things apace 
As onward in his course he flies, 
And when on you I last set eyes 

You were a little girl, j^ou see, — 
A thing that merely laughs or cries, 

Chere Rosalie de Normandie : 

And so I turned in thought to trace 
The character which underlies 

The features of our ancient race. 
And all its bearings analyze, 
That I might cunningly devise 

The traits that should your portion be 
To make you lovable and wise, 

Chere Rosalie de Normandie : 



BALLADE 

I loved to picture you all grace, — 
The object of a lover's sighs, 

Who treasures close a bit of lace, 
Tom off by chance as priceless prize. 
Or else in sonnets vainly tries 

To praise your virtues fittingly ; — 
I pictured you in such a guise, 

Chere Rosalie de Normandie : 

ENVOI 

But since, deserting foreign skies. 
You've shown your very self to me, 

My fairest dreams I now despise, 
Chere Rosalie de Normandie. 



TO PHYLLIS 

With a sketch and a box of sweets. 

I am very much afraid, that you know this little maid, 
Whose name I do not choose to disclose-close-close, 

As for the little man, you may guess him, if you can, 
By the funny shape and size of his nose-nose-nose ; 

As he hands his little box to the maid with curly locks 
He says, while he bows : " Will you take-take-take, 
*• The heart that lies inside, which you'll find is true 
and tried, 
' ' While you eat the candies up for my sake-sake- 
sake ? ' ' 

Says the little maid in turn : ' ' Your heart I must return, 

" For hearts are seldom good for to eat-eat-eat, 
" But the candies I will take, not for your honor's 
sake, 
"But simply for the reason that they're sweet- 
sweet-sweet. ' ' 



TO CHLOE 

In return for a copy of de Mussefs verses. 

When the world was young, and the heavens were new, 
And the fauns and the satyrs had nothing to do, 
But to bask in the sunlight, admire the view, 

And flirt with the nymphs and the graces, 
'Twas then that the Earth could afford to be gay, 
For her children were few and not much in the way, 
And she still had some time to herself in the day 

After washing their hands and their faces ; 

And being just then of poetical turn — 

(The author she was of the " Elm and the Fern," 

Which she set to the tune of the soft tinkling burn) — 

By way of employing her hours 
She determined her former attempts to outdo. 
And to bind to her side with links forged anew 
Her lover, the Sun — poetical too — 

So she wrote the sweet songs of the flowers : 



TO CHLOE 



And, having procured a cop}^ of these, 

Selected of course, for each one agrees, 

That no maiden may read whatever she please — 

The reason? — I'm sure I don't know it, 
I send them to you as a token to-day, 
And hope that their fragrance may manage to say 
As much to your heart in the very same way. 

As to mine did the lines of your poet. 



HER HEART 

A dainty boudoir all scented and prim, 

x\s neat as new wax yet crowded with things, 
With photograph albums filled to the brim, 
"With patterns for skirts and for bodices trim, 
With powder and puffs and patches and rings ; 

With note books of gossip and scandal grim. 

An accurate table of who is who, 
A bundle of letters, all faded and dim, 
And a rose that was given her once by ///>«, 

Before she jilted him — faded, too. 

And this, with the mirror, is all that's there 

In the heart of milady so dainty and sweet. 
With perhaps just a soupgon of thought to spare, 
Which thought need neither be novel nor rare, 
But just orderly, trim and neat : 



HER HEART 



For passion must out and reason be dumb — 

Such a very well ordered heart is hers — 
And passion may grumble, and reason look glum, 
But both are well under her ladyship's thumb, 
And woe to the one that demurs. 



LEX TALIONIS 

I still can see the wavy curls, 

That o'er her shoulders floated, 
She was the verj' " girl of girls," 

On whom my young heart doted, 
She listened then with cold distain 

To all my silly speeches, 
And laughed outright to find : " Dear Jane ! 

Engraved on copper — beeches : 

But, now that in the lapse of years, 

(Full nine and thirty summers), 
Her hair grown thin behind the ears, 

She welcometh all comers, 
My hand no more I seek to link 

With that, which still her own is, 
And o'er my peaceful pipe I think 

Upon the lex talioms. 



IN ANSWER TO A REQUEST FOR 
NINE VALENTINES 

Of old one muse the poet sung, 
And must I hymn the nine ? 

And must I teach my rebel tongue 
To ask as valentine 

Nine girls, egad? No, I'll be hung 
Before I'll write a line! 



IF I WERE RICH 

If I were rich I'd have a horse, 

A house that owned a stable, 
My dinners should be good of course, 

With claret on the table, 
My china, glass and silverware 

Should be beyond all cavil, 
And when I needed change of air 

I'd go abroad and travel : 

I'd have a man to black my shoes, 

I'd subsidize a barber. 
My friends I sometimes would amuse 

With yachting in the harbor, 
I'd get up in the mornings late. 

Let's say about eleven. 
And dine each night at half past eight, 

And not as now at seven. 



IF J WERE RICH 



For nothing should be as it was, 

If money could arrange it, 
If I were rich, then just because 

A thing was so I *d change it ; 
And, living now in single ease, 

The first thing I should do, dear, 
Would be to settle, if you please, 

My wedding day with you, dear. 



ON EDITH MASQUERADING AS DIANA 
ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY 

Dan Cupid winked his roguish eye, 

His fat sides shook with laughter, 
He rubbed his hands and cried : " Oh my ! 

' ' There will be fun hereafter ! ' ' 
Quoth he : " I'm laying even bets, 

" Miss Dian will repent her 
" Of flouting at me when she gets 

" The valentine I've sent her." 

It seems that he his arrows had 

Exchanged for those she carried; 
It grieved the tender hearted lad 

That she had never married; 
" And sure," thought he, " amid the rout 

" Of Tuesday's fancy dances 
" If she but take an arrow out, 

" 'Tis odds that something chances!" 



22 OX EDITH MASQUERADING AS DIANA 

Alas, alas, she left unlatched 

That quiver full of sorrows, 
And she alone remains unscratched 

By those almighty arrows ; 
So weeping sore we go our ways, 

Where e'er our duty leadeth. 
But evermore we stop to gaze — 

On Dian?— No, on Edith. 



APRIL FOOL 

I would not kiss you, if I could ; 

I would not press your hand I swear ; 
'T were vain t' undo your silken snood 

To tempt me with your golden hair ; 

My arm abhors your dainty waist ; 

My head upon your virgin breast, 
Nor rapture can, nor comfort taste. 

But sighs for pillows and for rest ; 

My eyes I close and turn away. 

If but an ankle steal in sight, 
And to your rippling laughter gay 

I shut my ears with all my might ; 

And — yes, though you're the brightest miss, 
That ever chattered French at school, 

If you believe one word of this, 

I'll laugh and call you : "April Fool ! " 



HER PARASOL 

Beneath its shade 
The saucy maid 

Lay sheltered from the sun, 
And thus to me : 
"Good sir,'' quoth she, 

"There is just room for one. 

So down I sat, 
And 'neath her hat. 

Tip tilted rowdy-wise. 
It came to pass, 
I lost, alas ! 

My heart within her eyes. 



AUTUMNAL 

Though, dear, I distinctly remember, 
(Many years have passed over us since,) 

'Twas the bleakest, of nights in December, 
When my heart began first to evince. 

That said heart could e'en glow like an ember, 
Though till then 'twas the hardest of flints; 

And though May was the month when we plighted 
That troth, which we ever shall keep. 

And the brightest of sunbeams delighted 
To play with your curls at bo-peep 

All that day, till worn out they alighted, 
And in your two eyes fell asleep; 

'Tis when others are hunting the coon, dear. 
The grouse and the partridge with zest ; 

And in red and in gold and maroon, dear, 
The bushes and trees are all dressed ; 

Yes, Autumn's the time when the moon, dear. 
Impels me to love you the best. 



A CUP OF TEA 

A little note in Phyllis' hand, 

As plain, as plain can be, 
'Tis sealed with her pwn signet, and 

It is addressed to me. 

I stand and think what it can hold 

Of love or coquetry 
Until, my faint heart growing bold, 

I open it and see. 

Alas ! 'tis but a mere request 

' ' To take a cup of tea 
At five o'clock," and meet her guest, 

"That charming girl, Miss B." 

A hundred more no doubt have learned 

Of that same cup of tea — 
'Tis hard where Phyllis is concerned 

Just one per cent, to be! 



A CUP OF TEA 



But though my hopes have gone pell-mell, 

Dissolved in mild Bohea, 
I'll go and drown my woes as well 

In flowing bowls of — tea. 



TO A FIVE DOLLAR BILL 

We two, at least before you went, 

Have seen the towm to some extent, 

Have been out late o'nights together 

In nipping and in sultry weather, 

And, each to serve his private ends, 

Have been, as friendship goes, good friends 

So, Bill, in answer to these rhymes 

Remembering kindly former times 

Come look me up, you'll find me thinner ; 

And, William, — treat me to a dinner. 



TO MISS PUMPERNICKEL 

If your name you regret, 
It is easy to change it : 

'Tis futile to fret ; 

If your name you regret, 

I'm single as yet, 
Why can't we arrange it? 

If your name you regret, 

Pray why don't you change it? 



CHEEKY 

If " dans V amour 
II y a toujours,'' 

The proverb isn't new, 
''L'un qui bazse" 
For so it says, 

" £t I 'autre qui tend la joue. 

It seems to me, 
Ma chere a}?iie, 

The one to kiss I'd seek 
To be, and so 
I'd like to know 

If you'll supply the cheek. 



TO DAPHNE WITH A SILVER BONBONIERE 

I care not what you keep in it, 
Or sweets or other things, 

But pray, that when you peep in it, 

The love I've put to sleep in it 

May stretch his downy wings, 
May rise and stretch his wings : 

That should you ever weep in it, 

For joy, or grief, or fear, 
Back may he quickly creep in it. 
And snuggling close and deep in it 

May drink up every tear. 

May dry up every tear. 



LOVE WITH MARGINAL NOTES 

I wrote some verses on a day ; 

With pangs of love o'erflowing, 
And left them in a careless way 

Upon my desk, unknowing. 

Sweet Martha enters all forlorn, 
Tho' Richard loves her dearly: 

For Dick is not to riches born — 
To slender wages merely. 

Ah, ca7i they marry on a thon — 
She sees a likelj^ margin 

About the verses that just now 
I told my love at large in. 

Her pretty head with figures filled— 
She snatches up the paper, 

And soon the items all are billed 
In columns long and taper. 



LOVE WITH MARGINAL NOTES 

" A pound of mutton's 20 cents, 

And 40 cents for butter." 
Is scrawled across — ' ' the love intense 

My lips can never utter." 

The price of coal to some extent 
O'erlaps " my mistress' scorn;" 
" $500 for the rent" 

Blots out — " my soul is torn ! " 

Sweet ]\Iartha, true and tender maid, 
How well you dot and carry ! 

But, Martha, dear, when all is said, 
Oh does it pay to marry ? 



AUTUMN DAYS 

The leaves have strewn the rustHng ways ; 

The birds are strangely still ; 
The mill-pond in these Autumn days 

Is bleak and something chill ; 
And hopes which smiled through Summer's haze 
Are dead and gone these Autumn days. 



UNDER THE MISTLETOE 

I kissed her 'neath the mistletoe ! 

She was so sweet, so young, so fair, 
With bright blue eyes and golden hair, 

For all I reck the world may know, 

I kissed her 'neath the mistletoe. 

Nor do I think she was too bold 

When 'round my neck she threw her arms. 
And whispered soft her quaint alarms; 

For she was only five years old, 

And feared, she said, her nurse might scold. 



ENTRE NOUS 

An idyl of the 400, after Austin Dobson. 

"They are neither man nor woman, 

" They are neither brute nor human." — POE 

We are neither man nor girl, 

Entre nous. 
We are both in fashion's whirl, 

It is true ; 
But an ordinary feather 
Would outweigh us both together, 

Entre nous ; 
As we sit down here and chatter 

(For the ball room is so hot), 
It seems so small a matter 
Whether we exist or not 
That the " world that turns about us," 

As you said. 
Might better turn without us, 

I'm afraid: 



ENTRE NOUS 



My neck looks well, decollete, 

My figure is not faulty, 

And my gown, of rare brocade. 

Is a poem among dresses; 
In short, I'm well arrayed, 

But my empty heart confesses, 
I'm less real than my maid, 
Who is not in fashion's van; 

As for you, 
You're a parody on man, 

Entre nous. 

Let's discuss each other fairly; 

Entre nous, 
You must admit it's rarely, 

That we do. 
For in our idle chatter 
'Tis easier far to flatter. 

Entre nous; 



38 ENTRE NOUS 



For example 'twas in duty, 
Or at least I so suppose, 
That you said my piquante beauty 

Fostered envy in the rose; 
Though you scarce were sure I heard 

What you swore, 
And you never meant a word, 

All the more, 
]\Iy apathy ignoring, 
Your compliments kept soaring. 
Till I really found them boring, 

E7itre 710 us : 
A phonograph inserted 

In a doll of proper size 
With machinery concerted 

To work the mouth and eyes. 
And dressed as near the fashion, 

As are you, 
Were as sensible to passion, 

Ent7'e 710US. 



ENTRE NOUS 



As for me, my airs and graces, 

Entre 710 ics ; 

Illy dresses, silks and laces, 

C 'est bien tout ! 

There is nothing else behind them ; 

For my feelings, my sensations, 

My heart and its temptations. 

The signs of its emotion, 

Love, hatred or devotion, 

If so you cared to do, 

You might search and never find them, 
Entre 710ns. 

Don't you think, if such the case is 
With us two. 

It were best we set our faces, 

Pou7- le coup. 

Against this bald flirtation ? . 

'Tis but an irritation, 

E7it7-e nous : 



ENTRE NOUS 



Of course if we were human, 
You a man and I a woman, 
There might be some desire 
In our hearts to play with fire ; 
Or, if we both were younger, 

We might " pretend " at least, 
As children still their hunger 
With a papier mac he feast ; 
But beneath this calm exotic 
With the lamplight glinting through 
It's simply idiotic, 

Enfre nous I 



YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND TO-MORROW 

The past be d d ! the future will come, 

Whatever we do, or say, or think, 
Leave tears to some, and prayers to some, 

The present's the time to play and drink : 

For what care we though to-morrow we die ! 

Let's live to-day— so far, so good— 
And if to-morrow we needs must sigh, 

'Tis 7iever to-morrow be't understood : 

For to-day is to-day, whatever it was 
When yesterday's sun burned clear and bright. 

And to-morrow is never to-morrow, because 
To-day steals a march on it during the night. 



42 YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND TO-MORROW. 

And if it be only to-morrow we die, 
That we'll live forever and ever is clear ; 

So now, while the merry to-days go by. 
Let's toss the bumper from year to year. 

We don't give a hang for the future or past, 
The one is gone, and the other's to come ; 

But the present — the present is here to last — 
Be merry to-day — to-morrow be glum ! 



A VALENTIiNE 

February 141/1, iSSS. 

I have to force my pen to write, 
It seems unmaidenly to sue, 

Nor does the year excuse it — quite ; 
But then, you see, I write to you. 

We women, like the ghosts of old, 
Should only speak when spoken to, 

And some will think me all too bold 
This rigid rule to break — do you ? 

I care not, — caution to the wind ! 

How e'er this letter I may rue. 
My heart shall still its comfort find 

In having spoken once to you ; 

And so forgive me if you deem 
What I have done is wrong to do, 

And just in pity let me dream. 
That I am Valentine to you. 



A VALENTINE 

Love's district messengers are flowers, 

And by this motley crew 
Of roses, plucked in Kliinder's bowers, 

I send my love to you. 



TO MY MOTHER ON HER BIRTH-DAY 

Jimc 2oth, iSS 

How many years ago it was 

I scarcely dare to say, 
But well I know that it befell 

Upon this very day, 
And in the month that follows close 

Upon the heels of May ; 

That in this State a babe was born 

With golden, fluffy hair. 
Who cried as if she knew it was 

A world of gloomy care. 
And felt that such a feeble thing 

Could have no business there. 



46 TO MY MOTHER ON HER BIRTH- DAY 

But still she lived, and in her life 
Were mingled joys and woes, 

The bitter coming with the sweet ; 
And like her emblem rose, 

She seemed the lovelier for the tear 
Which every woman knows. 

Yet now this woman, having been 

A blessing to us all, 
Who call her by the sweetest name 

That ever man did call 
Another mortal being by 

Since Adam and " The Fall," 

This woman thinks as once she thought. 

When, being lately born, 
She felt it was a cruel world, 

And she the most forlorn 
Of all who've been from happier climes 

By ruthless parents torn : 



TO MY iM OTHER ON HER BIRTH-DAY 

Ah ! well it is a dismal thing — 

Indeed it is ! — to live, 
And birth- days are the saddest days 

The long year has to give, 
So let us weep and catch our tears 

Within some patent sieve ; 

And just as long as they will stay 

The patent sieve within, 
Why we will be as sorrowful 

As we have ever been. 
But, when they're gone, what can we do 

But dry our eyes and grin ? 

So, Mother, take these fragrant flowers. 

And let the drops that lie 
Upon their rosy petals do 

Instead of many a " cry," 
And when you really want to weep — 

Why get a sieve, and try. 



TO MY MOTHER ON HER BIRTH-DAY 

June 20th, 1S83. 

When, proud of thee, the sniihng earth 
Would all her joy at once disclose, 

And deck the month that saw thy birth, 
She ordered June to bear the rose. 



TWO PICTURES 

'■Look here upoti this picture and on ///i'i'"— Hamlet. 

The student's lamp shines brightly 

On rows of well worn tomes, 
And wreaths of smoke float lightly 

From ^schylus to Holmes ; 
The student's fancy wanders, 

His feet are cocked on high, 

O'er pleasant things he ponders, 

And winks his wicked eye. 
******* 

The boudoir's light is blinking 
Before two eyes which seem 

More brilliant to my thinking 
Than Sol's most ardent beam ; 

Through loosened nut-brown tresses- 
Gleams white a shoulder bare, 

And petticoats and dresses 

Lie tumbled on a chair. 
******* 



TJVO PJCTi'RES 



The student still is thinking, 

His thoughts have turned awry 

And all his wicked winking 

Has ended in a sigh. 
•X- * * -JJ * * * 

Her toilet quite perfected 
The woman dreams awhile, 

And in her glass reflected 
Is s2icJi a meaning smile. 



A PLEA FOR TWO LAWLESS TRESPASSERS 

{After Sir John Denham.) 

Not content to kiss thy cheek, 
Favor meek ! 
For a greater boon they speak, 
Burning with an amorous fire 
To thy Hps, 
To thy Hps 
My Hps aspire ! 

Where they'U feast themselves until, 

If you will, 
Greedily they've had their fill. 
Then, with nectar drunk, excuse 'em, 
When they stray. 
When they stray 
To thy bosom. 



THE DUEL 

I knew my love was brave as well as fair, 
And, chancing once with her to differ, 

Instead of gauntlets one I sent a pair 
To make my challenge seem the stiffer. 

The choice of weapons thus did lie with her. 

She chose the tongue, for she could use it. 
To this, I own, I made no slight demur ; 

(I knew at talking I should lose it !) 

She called me coward, asked me what I would ; 

I said : " Let's compromise the matter. 
You use your tongue, and I my lips." " Tis good ! " 

She cried, and straight began to chatter. 

I kissed her pretty lips and stopped the flow, 
She pursed her rosy mouth and pouted : 

' You don't fight fair !" she cried, "for well you know, 
I cannot kiss and talk." I doubted 



THE DUEL 



That this her plaint she could by code sustain : 
" 'Tis just," I said, "You can't deny it. 

That sword should fend : forsooth I'd soon be slain 
Without a guard, my lips supply it." 



TO PRUE WITH A FAN 

The sprites and fays and elfin things, 
That ivill get tangled in 3'our hair, 
Though fanning madly with their wings, 
Can scarcely stir the heavy air, 
But this, I hope, shall serve to lure 
Some light-heeled zeph^^r from the West, 
Whose cool-lipped kisses may insure 
Your comfort while the fiddles rest. 



ARCADIE 

It's agreed, that when we are tired and sick 

Of dinners and coaches and dances ; 
That when Harry of pleasing has lost the trick, 

And ditto has happened to Frances ; 
When we long for Nature, and all that's true, 

And worth the trouble of wishing ; 
With a rod and a creel and a book, that you 

And I shall go a-fishing ; 

That we'll wander lazily down the stream 

With a hamper of cold provisions ; 
And that you shall sing the while I dream ; 

And that Civil Procedure decisions, 
And law and order and all that's dry 

Shall vanish in innocent pleasure, 
As your notes float up to the summer sky 

In a quaint and purling measure ; 



56 ARCADIE 



That the brook shall join in the glad refrain ; 

And, when we have fished and waited, 
Too happy to know that we fish in vain, 

Or to care if the hook be baited, 
That we'll sit ns down in some grateful shade, 

And that there yoii shall read at your ease, dear, 
And teach me to like or Browning or Praed, 

Or any thing else 3'ou please, dear ; 

That is, when sick of the world am I, 

And you of its fuss and its flutter. 
That afar from the haunts of men we'll fly 

With a basket of bread and butter, — 
That when you are tired of being a belle, 

And I of posing as clever — 
"And that will be when?" you ask — oh, well. 

Perhaps it is safe to say — never ! 



MISS AURORA BOREALIS 

With the lazy grace of an indolent queen 
She lifts her head and she cocks her chin, 

While the haughty curl of her lip must mean 
The reign of an insolent spirit within ; 

And she is so cold, so bitterly cold. 

That I button my overcoat up to my chin, 

And I shiver whenever I make so bold 

As to touch her hand, for my blood is thin. 



OSCULATORY 

He gave me a kiss 
As he told me good-bye 

Yes, I know 'twas amiss, 

He gave me a kiss, 

Yet hate him for this 
I can 't though I try ; 

He gave me a kiss 
As he told me good-bye. 



DIABLERIE. 

' When the Devil was ill, the Devil a monk would be. 
When the Devil got well, the devil a monk was her 

—Rabelais. 

Beneath the brown of his sun burnt cheek 

The devil grew pale in the gills,— 
'Tis bootless the cause of his ailing to seek, 

Perhaps he was subject to chills,— 
Be that as it may, his mustache lost its curl, 

And he looked so meagre and limp, 
That Charity felt— the soft-hearted girl !— 

Compelled to pity the imp : 

With poultices, lotions, wntch hazel, beef tea, 

With soda-mint tablets and pills 
She doctored the scamp, while— a wonder to see !- 

He bore like an angel his ills ; 
So saintlike he seemed, that it was with relief, 

(You perceive all her pity in this), 
In his coming translation she lost her beHef 

By his dastardly stealing a kiss. 



BY REQUEST 

So you wish me to \vTite a poem for you, 

The scene to be laid in a ball room you say 
With a heroine looking as heroines do 

When dancing they turn the night into day, 
And a hero rigged out in a clawhammer coat, 

Patent leathers below, and a mull tie above ? 
What you wished for a theme I neglected to note. 

But presume you prefer I should sing about love. 

Here goes then — my heroine — must I define ? 

Or will you just turn to the glass at your side, 
And by your reflection the features divine ? 

If you don't hit the mark you'll not go very wide— 
For her face is perfection, and as for her mind 

The philosophers' stone was nothing, I hold. 
To her pretty conceits, which ever refined 

The meanest of dross into purest of gold ; 



BY REQUEST 



My hero — good lack ! he was nothing at all, 

A commonplace every day sort of a swain, 
Just the kind of a man you might meet at a ball, 

Nor care if you never should see him again. 
But, alas, the poor fellow ! he, for his sins. 

Fell madly in love with this beautiful maid. 
And swore to her once — here the swearing begins — 

That his passion was such that it never could fade. 

ENVOI 
Of course you have guessed who my characters are, 

And how I've made use of your laughing request 
To tell you I love with a love that's by far 

More lasting than hills, more wild than the West. 



PSALMS, LXXXV: lo 

On charitable errand bent 

Prue met a legal youth, 
And said to him with arch intent : 

" Lo, Mercy, sir, and — Truth ? " 

He answered her in such a way, 
That she will never cease 

To wonder if he meant to say : 
" No, Righteousness and Peace ! 



A REMINISCENCE 

An old barn full of darkness, hay, 

And bugs, and slugs, and other things 
That rustle in an eerie way — 

A bat's half seen and noiseless wings — 
The barn door open to the sky. 

Whence shines the evening tvrilight through- 
A hay mow that is not too high 

To reach with lazy ease, and — you. 



MAN'S LOVE. 

The sun rode low in the western sky, 

The song of the birds grew still 
As he and she came strolling by 

Through the lane which led by the mill ; 

*' Have you heard ? I'm engaged to Harry," said she, 
While a bright smile dimpled her cheek, 

And never a single word said he. 
Though he seemed about to speak. 

But bending low he kissed her hand 

As he stifled a sob unheard, 
And he left next day for a foreign strand. 

Where he died and was interred — 

That is in the course of some twenty years. 

In which, as it wnll befall. 
He had cause for laughter and cause for tears, 

And two good wives in all. 



QUID PRO QUO 

AN IMITATION. 

Sally, Sally, hear me through, 
Once I loved no one but you. 

And now, although I love no less, 

'Tis meet that I my sins confess. 
Confess that though I love you still 

Another shares my heart, 
That of my life against my will 

That other forms a part. 

Blame me not then when I sip 
Nectar from another's lip ; 

'Tis not that Sally's ceased to please, 

'Tis not that fairer is Louise, 
But since Lou's here while Sal is there, 

And kissing 's sweet, you know, 
To kiss Louise I think is fair 

If done as quid pro quo. 



ROMANCE 

Throughout a plodding dull prosaic life 
The mem'ry of a face, a word, a glance — 
The sweet that lingers of the old romance. 
With which our frolic younger days were rife. 
Will still remain in spite of children, wife, 
And all that in the lapse of years may chance, 
And with its pretty tenderness enhance 
The peace with which at first it seems at strife. 

As on the pathway of the sun a cloud 

Doth prove a blessing rather than a bane 

When through its mists his rays empurpled gleam, 

So thought of her, vre dare not name aloud 

Because of plighted vows at Hymen's fane. 

Still lends our life the halo of a dream. 



TO AMARYLLIS AT NEWPORT 

I know a place upon the cliffs 
Concealed from view of passing skiffs, 

Whose very outlines, darling, 
In misty clouds the fog elfs wrap, 
Where we can hear the sea-dogs lap, 

Or listen to their snarling; 

Where no unwelcome gossip's eye 
Upon our loving tryst may spy 

At eve or in the morning ; 
Where you and I need make no bones 
O'er treating Mrs. Grundy Jones 

And " les ondits " with scorning ; 

So let us meet there safe from ken, 
And should I kiss you now and then 

While fleecy fog banks hide us. 
As long as it were known to none 
Why very little harm were done, 

Although no bonds have tied us. 



JOAN 

Though Joan be close on sixty year 

Old age hath kissed her lightly, 
A white hair there, a wrinkle here, 

A step not quite so sprightly 
As when in Newport years ago 

She charmed me with her dancing — 
They call me now, " that stiff old beau, 

But she is still entrancing. 

She knows I love her and to boot 

She seems to like my wooing. 
Yet after forty years my suit 

Is still in course of suing, 
But what of that, and that my knee 

Has grown too stiff to bend it, 
My suit to her shall always be 

Until friend Death shall end it. 



CELIA'S PORTRAIT 

Celia's portrait's passing fair, 
Passing fair is Celia too, 

None with either can compare 
Save the other of the two. 

That is why the artful minx 
Will not give to begging love 

Any likeness, for, she thinks, 
'Twould perhaps her rival prove. 



EPITAPH OF A CUR 

Semper fide lis, semper idem, 

Semper paraitis to bark or to bite, 
Sic itur ad astra, and though he was lame, 

Deo juv ante, he'll get there all right. 

Semel pro semper he's gone to his rest. 
His barks are all barked and finished his work, 

Peccator magmis he was at his best, 
Siste viator et or a pro Turk. 



TO CELIA REQUESTING A POEM BEFORE 
BREAKFAST 

Oh how for a poem at this time o' day 
Can you make e 'en a laughing request ! 

Lo the Robin still sings his matutinal lay, 
And his hen has not yet left her nest, 

And the worth of its birthright appears to my soul 

As slowly to life it awakes 
Immeasurably less than the price of a roll, 

And a griddle of feathery cakes. 

No, I cannot compose till the earth has been aired. 
And the birds have all taken their " dips," 

Till my maiden my coffee has deftly prepared, 
And the cup has been pressed to my lips. 

But I hope you won't find my refusal too gruff. 
And wnll learn this at least from my scroll. 

That the morning of day should be poem enough 
For a girl who's possessed of a soul. 



A MLLE. PHYLLIS 

Dans le vieux temps il se fit 
Que M. Cupidon, ma chere, 

Embrassait bien, a ce qu'on dit, 
Psyche qui le laissa faire — 

Cherie, si tu voudrais bien 
Mes tendres prieres exaucer, 
Cupidon aupres du mien 
Rougirait de son baiser. 



BON VOYAGE 

'Most everything's been said or sung 
By some more sweet or facile tongue, 

That's worth the saying, 
So now, that, lying off the strand, 
Your ship, ere setting canvas and 

Her anchor weighing, 

Awaits until the gong be heard. 
And that you ask a parting word 

Of this attorney, 
What can a musty lawyer say 
Save wish you in his driest way 

A pleasant journey ! 



A DEDICATION 

Dear Phyllis, if thus far you've read 
I doubt me much you shake your head, 

And wonder whether 
I be a Mormon in disguise, 
Since for so many maids my sighs 

I've bound together : 

If so, you have not read a bit 
Between the lines, and all your wit 

Misserves you, Phyllis, 
For know that you and only you 
Are meant by " Celia," " Chloe," " Prue, 

And " Amaryllis." 




•ISlSili. 



